


Four Days of Me and You

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One bed fic, and they were quarantined, quarantine fic, some banter, some smut?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Mulder and Scully spend four days together in quarantine. Oh yeah, there's only one bed.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 6
Kudos: 150





	Four Days of Me and You

**Author's Note:**

> A while back there was a list of one-bed prompts going around on tumblr. I got an ask to include all of them. And I did!

“What do you mean we have to stay here?” Scully stares at him, her eyes narrowed. Her half packed suitcase sits on the bed and she drops a pair of socks into it. “This is a joke, right? You’re joking?” Her eyes are pleading with him.

When they checked in last night, neither of them paid much mind to the receptionist with the small, red eyes and the hoarse voice. It was late, both of them exhausted and in need of a shower. They were happy to find a motel at all, after hours of driving. There was one room left and they took it grudgingly. Well, Scully did. Mulder was smirking. He couldn’t have known that the floor was so rancid that Scully would invite him into the advertised Queen-sized bed that was barely a double.

“Not joking,” Mulder says, pushing a cup of coffee at Scully. “We’re under quarantine.”

“For what?” Her voice is unusually squeaky.

Mulder shrugs, biting into a croissant. “You go talk to them.”

“To whom? Mulder, if this is a joke and you’re-“

“I’m not joking.” He touches her shoulder and gently leads her to the window. The glass is dirty, shows a fine greasy film and several fingerprints. “Look.” Outside, Scully watches a team of hazmat-suits sealing off the premises. She swallows hard, her heart pounding.

“How long?” She asks, taking a step back from the window and bumping into Mulder’s large frame.

“Four days.”

“Why are you so calm about this? Aren’t you worried at all?”

He shrugs. “You’re here,” is all he says and it renders her speechless.

*

She doesn’t know how they make it through the first day, but they do. Despite his earlier displays of indifference, Mulder, much like his namesake, turns restless once the sun sets.

“Stop pacing,” Scully says, looking up from the novel she’s reading. She hasn’t read a novel – a romance of all things – in ages. “Go read a book. Watch some TV.”

“No,” he says, “do you think it’s safe to walk the hallways?”

“Better stay inside.”

He grins at her. “Want to keep me to yourself, Scully?”

“I want to keep the outside contact as minimal as possible,” she answers matter-of-factly. “I have to sleep with you after all.”

“You do?” The grin widens.

“In the same bed, Mulder. Not as in…” she clears her throat, pretends to be engrossed in her reading material. She hears Mulder chuckle he continues his strange exercise regime, walking up and down the small room.

How are they going to survive four days together trapped in this room? And, she dares a look at Mulder again, his back turned to her, three nights in the same bed. In that small, tiny bed. Together. Last night, she was asleep before her head even hit the pillow. Tonight, though, if Mulder’s current behavior is any indication, she won’t be so lucky.

Mulder, with a dramatic sigh, plops down on the bed, taking up most of the space, and turns on the TV. He zaps through the channels, never dwelling long until he settles on a game show. For the next hour, he mumbles the answers whenever the candidates are clueless. Scully sighs, relieved that Mulder, at least for the moment, is occupied, and she can return to the fictional love story that’s grabbed her attention.

The next time she looks up from her book, the game show has ended and has made room for a sitcom with canned laughter. She checks on Mulder and is surprised to find him asleep, sprawled across the bed with his head on one pillow, his arms around the other. She closes the book and tiptoes over.

“Mulder?” She ruffles his soft hair, hoping it will wake him up, but he doesn’t stir. “Hey, Mulder,” she tries again, her hand brushing his sleep-warm cheek. He makes a noise that’s half a grumble and half a sigh. “You’re using my favorite pillow,” she says to him, trying to pry it from his arms. His hold tightens.

“Mine,” he mumbles, sounding half-asleep.

“I need one, too,” she reminds him. When he refuses to let go of the pillow, she decides to take more drastic steps. She grabs the pillow from under his head and tugs at it. Hard. Mulder’s eyes shoot open and he stares at her.

“What?” He blinks at her tiredly.

“Scoot over,” she says with a not so gentle shove. Mulder’s movements are sluggish, but he obeys. “Why do you take up so much space?” She complains as she crawls into bed beside him, wrestling for the comforter.

He is still, no snarky answer from his side of the bed, and his breathing even. Scully puts her head on her hard-earned pillow that smells like sleep, but even more so like Mulder. She watches him sleep, observes how his mouth goes slack and his lashes curl against his cheekbones. There’s an imprint of the pillow on his cheek that’s tempting her. She doesn’t touch him, but watches him until she, too, falls asleep.

*

“You know, Scully,” Mulder says before she’s even opened her eyes, “sharing the same bed doesn’t mean sharing the same pillow too.”

“What?” She asks, a whiff of morning breath hitting her and she has no idea if it’s her own or Mulder’s. “What are you talking about?”

“Your head,” he says, tipping a finger against her temple, “is on my pillow.”

“Oh?” She yawns, her mind slow to catch up. The bed is warm, so is the pillow, so is Mulder. Her eyes drift close again as a smile breaks out on her face.

“Scully,” Mulder nags, “your head, my pillow. Stay on your side unless you actually want to cuddle.” Her eyes are still closed so she can’t see him, but she hears the lightness in his voice.

“It’s only fair,” she mumbles into the surprisingly soft pillow, “you were hogging both pillows last night.”

“I was not.”

“You were.”

“Fine, keep the pillow. But I’m using it too.” She blames it on it being early morning, on just waking up. When Mulder lays down again, his head so close to hers that their hair touches and their noses bump, she doesn’t move. Her eyes are open now and grow wide, but she doesn’t move away.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Morning breath,” Scully replies. She doesn’t mind it at all, revels in their intimacy. But Mulder doesn’t need to know that. Being this close to him, sharing his warmth, feeling his chest expand against hers as he breathes, feels good. Most of all, it feels right. It’s as if they’ve been waking up like this for years.

“If you want me to move, you have to pay with a kiss.” He closes his eyes and puckers up. She considers it for a second or two. It would be so easy. Just to see his reaction if, for once, she were to play his game of innuendo. He peaks at her through a half-lidded eye and the moment is gone.

Without a word, she rolls away from him and gets up. His eyes bore into her as she makes her way over to the bathroom. She looks at her face, her slightly pink cheeks and her ruffled hair. Her lips are full, throbbing with the desire to be kissed. She touches them and wonders what it would have felt like had she closed the small distance between them.

*

“Reading a book this late?” Mulder is standing behind her chair, his head almost level with hers. A few droplets of water drip from his still wet hair onto her neck. She shudders and turns to him, an angry glare in her eyes.

“Mulder!”

His sheepish smile is disarming. “You looked pretty,” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, “pretty busy.”

“Then why did you interrupt me?”

“Just curious what’s got you so engrossed. I’ve never seen you read anything with this much passion unless it was a medical journal.”

“It’s called a novel, Mulder.”

“What’s it about?”

“Are you aware that your hair is wet?”

“I am. What’s the novel about?”

“You can read it once I’m done with it.” She wishes she could send him to his own motel room. Or downstairs. Just… away. But he’s here. He’s staring at her, pouting and waiting, claiming her personal space. It’s only their second day and it’s not him losing his nerves, it’s her.

“I don’t want to read it,” he says, “hey Scully, why don’t you read it to me?”

“No,” she says quickly, staring at the letters in front of her, knowing exactly where the man and in the woman in the story are heading.

“Then I’ll do it.” Mulder has snatched the paperback from her hands before she can react. “Let’s see… ‘ _come on, Nick, this is crazy_ ’”, Mulder chuckles, looking at her. Scully bites her lip, having already read that part. She knows what comes next. She knows exactly what Mulder is going to say any moment. Her whole body grows taut in anticipation.

“’ _He walks to where I am, the intensity of his eyes making it impossible for me to move away. You just looked me in the eyes, Sarah, and told me sex is all you want from me, so let’s do it. Fuck me until all your urges are satisfied. Fuck me until you can’t think straight anymore. Let’s just fuck, Sarah, and then, if that’s what you want, I’ll disappear from your life forever.’_ ”

The room falls quiet and Scully is afraid to look at Mulder. She feels warm, uncomfortably so. Her hands grip the armrest, needing to hold on to something.

“Um,” Mulder says, clearing his throat, “Is that the kind of… literature you like, Scully?”

“No,” she answers too quickly. It’s none of his business that she used to borrow her mother’s romance novels whenever she came home from college. “There’s not much to do here, as you very well know.”

“Hmmm.” He nods, handing back her novel. “I probably should have waited taking a shower.” He winks at her.

“Shower,” she says as if it were a salvation. “I haven’t taken one today.” She throws the book at Mulder and he catches it, looking dumbfounded. For the second time that day, Scully flees into the bathroom.

 _Get a grip_ , she says to her reflection. Maybe it’s her who needs a cold shower.

When she returns, Mulder is in bed already. Who knew that all it took to regulate Mulder’s sleeping hours was a good, old quarantine. His eyes are closed, but she knows he isn’t sleeping. She brushes her damp hair and slips into bed.

“Hey, your feet are freezing!” Mulder sits up in bed, glancing at her.

“Sorry,” she says, unable to hide her smile. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Your cold feet can wake dead people, Scully. Get under the covers.” His voice turns soft and she feels warmer already.

“You smell good,” he says. She can smell him, too. They’re too damn close here in their motel room and this tiny, tiny bed.

“I smell exactly the same way you do.” They’ve been issued shampoo and shower gel, along with three meals every day. Mulder’s already displaying Pavlovian behavior, jumping up from whatever surface he’s currently on as soon as they hear the now familiar knocks at their door.

She reminds herself that this is not a vacation. They’re here because they might have caught a serious disease. So far neither she nor Mulder show any symptoms.

“What are you thinking about?” Mulder asks her. “Your sexy novel?”

“This quarantine.”

“You think we might have caught this virus?”

“No, I just- I don’t think so, no. I know it’s just a precaution. I know I washed my hands thoroughly.” She glares at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I took a shower after we got to our room.”

“About 69 % of men don’t wash their hands after using the bathroom.”

“69, huh?” She slaps him playfully and he laughs. “I promise you that I’m in the 31 % tile. What would- if one of us had it, what would happen?”

“I honestly don’t know, Mulder.”

“I wouldn’t leave you here.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you were infected and I wasn’t, I wouldn’t leave.”

“That’s ridiculous.” But his words make her heart pound.

“We’re in Idaho, Scully. I’m not gonna leave you here all alone.”

“You could get infected, too.”

“So be it. I’ve got my doctor with me.” He nudges her side. She loses herself in his gaze, in its intensity. What were the lines from the novel? _The intensity of his eyes making it impossible to move away._ She knows what that’s like. They stare at each other, blink in tandem, breathe in sync.

“We should try to get some sleep,” she says quietly, breaking the spell.

“The voice of reason,” Mulder says, his voice low.

“One of us has to be.”

“Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

*

The next morning, Scully wakes with sunbeams on her nose and Sunday on her mind. She smiles without opening her eyes and yawns. She thinks of making pancakes, of lounging on her couch, reading a book. Enjoying the quietness and the coziness her home provides. She stretches languidly until her feet encounter an obstacle.

“Eeep! Get those feet away from my back!” Reality grabs her and she turns quickly, staring at a wild-haired, crazy-eyed Mulder. “Why are your feet still so damn cold?”

“You ruined the blankets last night,” she says, pointing at the crumpled mess at the foot of the bed. “That’s why.”

“Yeah well, one more night and you’re rid of me.” His back is to her so he can’t see the hurt on her face. Up until now, they’ve gotten along so well. She thinks back to last night, their shared moment, their closeness.

“Mulder?” He ignores her. She reaches out a hand and touches his shirt-clad back. She feels the tension under her fingertips. She strokes his back in gentle circles as if to soothe him. Or maybe it’s to soothe herself. “Are you okay?” She asks. What she really wants to ask him if they’re okay.

“I didn’t sleep well,” he says to the wall. “I just need a moment.”

She gives him a moment. Actually, she gives him hundreds of moments throughout the day. They give each other space, always stay a few feet away from each other, waiting for the other’s next move, like two fencers.

Scully curls up in the chair and leaves the rest of the room to Mulder. He does sit-ups, he curses, eats and showers. She tries to read her novel, get lost again, and finds herself reading the same passages over and over. He hasn’t said the words, but she knows Mulder had a nightmare last night. The covers were her first hint. Trapped in here, he hasn’t been able to let off steam, to run it off or deal with it in his own, Mulderish way.

The first whole sentence he speaks to her comes in the evening and his voice sounds loud in her ears. “Turn off the light, I can’t sleep.”

“It’s only 8 pm.”

“So?” Grumpy Mulder is insufferable.

“I’m not tired. I want to finish my book.”

“I know how it ends.”

“Great, I don’t.”

“Scully, I really want to sleep.”

“And I really want to finish this book. You don’t have any problem sleeping with the TV on. Why is this such a big deal?”

“Are they having sex yet?”

“Excuse me?”

“The people from your book. Are they having sex yet?”

“You said you know how it ends.”

“I do,” he says, propping his head on his elbow. “What’s happening right now?”

“Not tired anymore?”

“I need a bedtime story.”

“I don’t-“

“Just read a few lines.” Now it’s her who wishes the lights were out. How does Mulder do this? How does he know exactly which moments to choose?

“Fine,” she says, licking her lips. “’ _He pushes his hand under my shirt and it brushes against…_ ” she stops, her cheeks burning up.

“Against?” Mulder presses. His body does, too. When did he get so close to her? She should have stayed in her chair, at a safe distance from him.

“’ _against the curve of my breast’_ ”.

“Hmmm. Do you… do you like that, Scully?”

“Do I like what?”

He doesn’t answer, not with words anyway. Today, it seems, they don’t have words. Don’t need them. His hand sneaks under her pajama top while his eyes remain on hers. She only has to say a word and he will stop.

“Go on,” he says and his eyes join in, ask silently.

“’ _His hand closes around my breast,_ ’” she continues and pants, her body awaiting his next move. As Mulder’s hand, warm, rough and yet so tender, closes around her own breast, brushing her nipple, she moans. The book falls from her hand and she touches him, needing to feel his skin.

“Hey, what about your novel?” He asks, his eyes piercing her.

“I know how it ends.”

“You do?”

“They make love.” Mulder’s thumb is gently stroking her breast, waiting.

“Do they?” His question is soft, laced with a hint of uncertainty. “Is that… is that what you want?”

She nods, not trusting her voice. “But Mulder… I need to know something.” He waits for her to go on. “This morning, you – this whole day you just… I want to know if you’re only doing this because you had a bad night and don’t know how else to deal with it.”

“Bad night – Scully, why do you think I was cranky all day? Because of a nightmare?” She nods slowly, doubts creeping into her mind. “No. It was the opposite.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare, Scully. I had a good dream. A very good dream.” That intense stare is back and then she gets it.

“You had a-“

“Sex dream about you? Yes. So no, I’m not doing this because I had a nightmare. I’m not doing it because I’m horny either, if that was your next question. All day, all I wanted was to talk to you, hold you, kiss you. I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.”

“Why did you wait so long?” She asks with a hoarse voice.

“It’s not too late yet, is it?”

“We still have about 13 hours in this motel room. Is that going to be enough time for you?”

“No,” he says, his face drawing closer, “but it’s a start.” He kisses her, devouring her mouth as if he was starving. She kisses him back in the same fashion. The hand around her breast tightens and she moans against his lips. Mulder starts moving against her and her body follows suit. They’ve always been a good team. When his erection comes into contact with her own sex, she presses up against him. Their desire overwhelms them, transforms from gentle to desperate in mere seconds. Mulder’s hand slips between them and under the waistband of her pajama pants.

“Did you ever think,” she pants against his mouth, “it would happen like this?”

“In quarantine?” He asks, sounding as if he’s been sprinting. “Or in a seedy motel?”

His fingers find her wetness and she forgets what she asked him, forgets how to answer. She only knows the rush of sensation, of knowing that Mulder is touching her this way. Nothing matters but Mulder’s weight on her. She wills herself to concentrate and open her eyes. Mulder’s expression is something she’s never seen before. His face is open and vulnerable as if pleading with her not to hurt him. She kisses him, needing to feel the sweep of his tongue again.

“Naked,” she says, “need you naked.”

They undress each other, their eyes exploring new territory with every piece of clothing discarded. Neither of them can keep their hands to themselves. They take their time, learn each other’s bodies in detail and without rush. Until Scully can’t take it anymore. She reaches into his boxers and palms his penis, gently stroking his length.

“Scully,” he moans into her mouth. “This is very – nice, but,” he ends with another moan, one that almost sounds painful.

“Nice?” She asks, staring at him and falling in love with him a million times over. The expression on his face is one of pure ecstasy. She did this to him. With a simple touch. “Enjoying yourself, Mulder?” she asks when he moves against her, thrusting slowly into her hand.

“I want to be inside you or this is going to be very embarrassing very soon.”

Together, they yank off his boxers and her panties. Mulder stops, drinks in her sight, and sighs. If she thought she saw love on his face before, she must admit that she was wrong. This is love. The expression on his face is full of wonder, as if he were asking her how he got here, why he of all people deserves it. She wants him to know that he does deserve this, her. Without taking her eyes off him she opens her legs for him.

“Scully,” his voice drips with arousal, “I just…” he doesn’t finish his thought and sinks between her legs, his mouth moving across her.

“God, Mulder.” She grips his hair, not caring if she’s causing him any pain. Pleasure shoots through her whole body, culminating where Mulder’s mouth licks and sucks expertly. The tell-tale tingle of her orgasm makes her pull Mulder up by his hair. He stares at her, his lips glistening. He licks her off him, beaming.

“Get up here.”

“I was enjoying myself,” he complains but climbs up, settling his weight on her.

“Are you sure about this, Scully?” His cock throbs against her thigh, hot and heavy. She’s never been so sure about anything. Never been this ready. Before Mulder can have second thoughts, because she doesn’t have a single one, she reaches between them. Mulder sinks into her slowly, his mouth hanging open. Their eyes lock as he fills her, inch by delicious inch. Awe flashes over Mulder’s face and she wonders if hers reflects the same.

“Hi,” he says, sounding out of breath.

“Hi,” she repeats.

“Nice to meet you.” He thrusts once and she moans.

“Likewise.”

“I never thought- fuck, Scully. I knew we’d be, but – this is… this is…” She touches his face as he continues to move inside her, increasing the pace. “This is-“ he tries again, panting.

“Tell me later,” she moans, kissing him. And he nods, thrusting harder and faster until they both scream out; Scully flies first and her eyes close as wave after wave hits her. Mulder follows soon after and she watches as he falls apart in her arms.

*

“Mulder?” Scully asks groggily, her body slow and reluctant to wake up. She’s sore, pleasantly so, but feels sticky. It doesn’t surprise her considering that Mulder is wrapped around her like vine.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” He kisses her neck and nibbles on her skin. “Happy end of quarantine day.”

“Oh, is that today?” she jokes, trying to turn in his arms. “Mulder, I need to breathe.”

“Come on, we haven’t cuddled in days,” his kisses move south, pass by her clavicle and set path towards her breasts. “I need affection and you can’t avoid me if we share the same bed.”

“You think I’m going to avoid you when we’re no longer forced to share a room?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past you if you wanted to spend a night or two without me. After all this. Don’t you?”

“What I want, Mulder, is to sleep with you in my own bed.”

“Sleep,” he asks, kissing his way back up and grinning. “Or sleep?” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Sleep,” she says, kissing the corner of his mouth, “and sleep.”

“Who knew quarantine could be so much fun, huh?”

“Don’t get any ideas, Mulder,” she warns.

“Who? Me? The only idea I have in my head is to kiss you.”

“Well, that’s a good idea.”


End file.
